


Day 1: Anchor

by CommonEvilMastermind



Series: Sollavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020 [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, F/M, Rift Magic, Solavellanhellartchallenge2020, Unresolved Sexual Tension, jewish elves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23881804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CommonEvilMastermind/pseuds/CommonEvilMastermind
Summary: Prompt from Solavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020Day 1: AnchorLilith Lavellan was named after Lilith, the queen of demons and wife of Fen'HarelThis Lilith is in loving homage to lavellanpls's Lilith Lavellan, a foul-mouthed inspiration to us all
Relationships: Female Lavellan/Solas
Series: Sollavellan Hell Art Challenge 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1721170
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22





	Day 1: Anchor

The eighth time they tried, the Anchor fizzled and exploded.

"It's not fucking going to work, Solas!" Lilith shouted from the snowbank where she lay. There was snow in her eyes and down her back and by the g-ds, her head hurt like a son of a bitch.

Solas, the son of a bitch most eligible for hurting, raised an eyebrow at her. She could feel the eyebrow raise. She hated him. "You were able to use the rift-energy in combat once. It only stands to reason that you could do it again."

"YOU do it, if you're so smart." She staggered upright, cursing. "I'm not a fucking mage, Solas. I'm a hunter. Not a mage. I can wave my hand at a rift, but I can't do this fucking... energy... thing."

"And when The Iron Bull handed you his great mace, you said, 'Oh no, I'm a swordswoman, I couldn't possibly learn a new weapon.'" His Lilith impression was lacking something, like humor. Solas went on. "Because, as a swordswoman, you limit yourself to only the tool that you know, and learn nothing else."

"Great maces are different," she sneered. "Great maces are _cool._ "

"I would have thought you would find murdering half a dozen demons in a stroke 'cool' as well. I must have been mistaken."

She groaned. He was right, it had been pretty fucking cool. "Fine."

"Again." He watched her with a critical eye as she planted her feet, stretched out her hand. "Breathe. Feel the power flowing in, draw it in with each breath. Let it build within you. Let it build and build. And when you feel you can no longer contain it, cast it out-!"

She cast - something. The resulting explosion sent her ten feet backwards, narrowly avoiding a young pine tree. "Fen'Harel's fucking tits!" she swore. The sunshine off the snow was bouncing right into her eyes, making everything worse, if that was possible. "Son of a _whore._ "

Solas' stupid face appeared over her. "I was under the impression that the Dalish avoided swearing by the Dread Wolf so that they would not draw his attention."

She groaned. "Whatever the fuck is going on, I'm sure Fen'Harel has his eyes all over me."

Solas offered her his hand. "Then, would it not be better to speak kindly?"

"Nah, Fen'Harel and I, we cool." she took his hand and he helped her up effortlessly. 

He was stronger than he looked, under that apostate homespun. 

That eyebrow again. "You are... cool?"

"Yeah." She stretched her back until it popped, rolling her neck. Solas' eyes flickered to her chest, for a moment. She counted it a win. "I would have picked his vallaslin if I could, but my ma said that there wasn't one... and she really sounded like she'd have me exiled that time if I tried."

"Indeed." Oh boy. His eyes got a hundred times darker and kind of scary at that. Kind of hot? Yikes.

"So I just picked Lilith as my use-name and almost got kicked out that way."

"Oh?" The darkness was gone, just like that, under his helpful, harmless apostate mask. Yeah, right buddy. Solas continued, "I am not aware of the origins of your name."

Lilith picked up a broken icicle to lick and then, as revenge, began to lick it more obscenely. "My kid-name was Liora, which means like, _"_ The gods' gift of light" or something, because I was supposed to be a Keeper like my ima. But instead I'm good at hitting things and causing trouble, so I took Lilith, because she was Fen'Harel's wife."

Solas, who was watching her lick the icicle like the thirsty fucking beefcake that he was, nearly tripped and fell into a tree. "His- wife?"

She shrugged. "Or his lover or his rival or even, like, his name when he shape-changed into a woman. You know how stories go."

"Indeed," he said faintly.

Lilith nodded. "She was Mythal's servant, but Mythal told her to spread her legs for Elgerna'an and she said fuck no and fucked off to be queen of the demons. And depending on the story, sometimes she _is_ Fen'Harel, and sometimes she's married to Fen'Harel, and sometimes she just fucks up Fen'Harel's plans, or he fucks up hers. Lilith's great."

"I can..." Solas started and had to clear his throat. "I can, ah, see why she would be an inspiration. Especially if your true purpose was to twist your mother's ears."

"Yeah, Ima deserved better than me." Lilith licked her icicle. "She wanted a nice little mageling but she only got me."

"Was she disappointed when you did not develop magical capabilities?" 

"Yeah." She looked at the mark in her palm - ever since Cor-fucky-face had tried to rip it from her skin, it would no longer go dark. It always shone, glimmering, like a faint scar of light. She had to wear a glove if she wanted to move around in the dark, and even then it sometimes didn't help. "Funny. She's got her wish. I'm magical. I'm holy. I'm everything she wanted me to be." Her eyes started watering, and she wiped them away angrily. "Stupid headache."

"May I?" Solas asked. She turned to look at him, an eyebrow raised, and nodded. He placed a hand on the back of her neck and cool, sweet, soft release flowed through her spine. The absence of pain felt like bliss. 

"Oh fuck that's good." She tilted her head, exposing her neck to him. An errant breeze caught the edge of his tunic, revealing his tight leggings underneath, and the effect that she was having on him. Hot damn. She whimpered a little, as an experiment, and his leggings grew tighter still. 

Her legs felt weak in anticipation. Slowly. Slowly, Lavellan. 

She looked up and he was standing closer than he had ever been. Their eyes met, and the heat there was absolutely searing.

Oh, fuck. Slowly, Lavellan. This one will spook like a feral halla and you won't get him back again. 

Right on queue, he looked away, a faint blush rising in his cheeks. She dropped her gaze and said, lightly, "Should we try again?"

"Ah, yes. If you're up for another attempt." 

"I'm up if you are," she muttered. She took a breath and gathered all of her feelings - her anger, her helplessness, her fear, and even her lust and stuffed them into a tight little ball which she tossed through the mark, into the clearing. 

And a small rift tore through the veil with a thundering crack, sweeping all of the snow within the clearing into the Fade. Stunned, she almost lost the feeling of it, but held on tight with two furious mental hands until the rift burned out with a thwack and the air was calm again.

She stared at Solas. "I did it!"

"You did." He looked at her and smiled. A real smile. Oh, damn. "You are to be congratulated."

"And?"

"And?"

"Are you going to congratulate me?" She put her hands on her hips, chin out, but she was laughing.

His smile grew wider, for just a moment. He swept an elaborate bow, full of flourish. "Congratulations, my lady."

She bit her lip. Nngh. "I could get used to that."

"Pardon?" He had heard her, his eyes were dancing.

"Shall we do it again?"

Another eyebrow raise - did she surprise him? "Yes," he said simply. "Let us begin again."


End file.
